


And I Won't Feel a Thing

by gratuitousWordsmith



Category: Homestuck
Genre: F/M, Humanstuck, superhumanstuck
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-02-23
Updated: 2013-02-22
Packaged: 2017-12-03 07:19:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,839
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/695685
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gratuitousWordsmith/pseuds/gratuitousWordsmith
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Based around the idea of the characters all being human, with the troll-based characters having super powers. Now whether they use it for the benefit of themselves or others is up to them. It follows powerless Karkat, a runner boy for the police station, as he tries to bring his own level of judgement to the world. And he does, until the notorious justice killer Redglare appears on the scene.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. 1

You stick one end of the rope in your mouth and yank hard on it. His wrists fold back and he whimpers. His name is Nitram. You can’t really remember his first name, but you do remember that he was suspected for the murder of a wealthy inventor. You read the case files, you saw the evidence. This would have been an easy shut case for the police if it weren’t for the fact that they couldn’t get a warrant. Nothing directly tied him to the case. It was all in what evidence they didn’t have that pointed to him. 

So you caught him. Caught the bastard who thought he could get away with murder. 

You stand up and wipe the sandy debris off your hands and onto your jacket. The sun starts to rise, and you realize you’ve been out all night looking for him. It’s about time you get back home. 

But before you can double check your knots and call the police, you hear someone giggle. It’s shrill, and cuts off oddly at the end.  

Shit. You know exactly who it is. You run, try to run back to the staircase down off the roof of the parking garage, but she’s already there. You look around and decide that maybe the ledge beneath isn’t too far of a climb…

-

Your name is KARKAT VANTAS and it really fucking sucks having your father on the police force.

Sure, he’s not the captain. Or even a cop. But he’s got a badge, and sits in an office and copies papers and stuff. He handles social disruption cases.

You like to think that even you outrank him, and you’re just the runner boy. 

Though now he’s been having to work a lot more since a large rash of rather outspoken citizens have begun protesting again. 

You sit at the kitchen table, picking at a frozen dinner while trying to watch the television from your seat. You’re not supposed to eat on the couch. Your physics text book sits next to you, open but ignored. You really don’t need to study for that test.

Besides the news is more interesting.

Your dad’s rival on the force, Captain Strider, is on the screen. He adjusts his sunglasses and looks at a spot just above the camera.

“Yeah… seems she took another catch out from under the Knight’s hand. Didn’t even bother being subtle about it. Hell, she was just about as subtle as mama in-law’s drunken firework display last New Year’s.” 

Yeah, you can definitely understand why your dad hates him so much. 

Speak of the devil, you hear the front door open and close with a slam. Your dad appears in the door way, bags under his eyes and his arms limp. He strips off his dorky red sweatervest and untucks his shirt (good thinking, too. The man has no waist and wears his pants hiked up over his navel.) 

“Son, Karkat, I  do not suppose you prepared another meal? It is alright if you did not, I understand completely. I shall find something myself.” You stand up.

“It’s fine dad, it’s not that hard to stick some plastic in the microwave I got this.”

“Bless you, son.”

“Whatever dad.” You do as you said you would and turn back to the table. He’s pulled out his laptop and seems to be filling out a report.

Like he does every night.

You sit across from him.

“I hear the Knight struck again.” You push your water glass between your hands, the glass quietly scraping the wood.

“Yes… and Redglare.”

“Oh?” You knew very well that she took your catch. She scared you off that roof last night. You nearly fell to your death.

“She killed this time. We were not even sure if he actually was guilty of the murder we were to convict him for,” he scratches his head, looks at the ceiling and and sighs. It’s a while before he starts talking again. “Of course that is not my department. Huh.”

“Yeah…”

Your name is Karkat Vantas and for once you are completely relieved that your father is extremely lame.

You hope he just doesn’t get too close.


	2. 2

Your name is Karkat Vantas and you can’t think of anything more cliched than the love you have for the girl who sits in front of you in Physics class, and your hatred for the guy who sits next to her. You idolize the girl. To you, every bit of Terezi Pyrope is flawless. Unfortunately, the dick in seat 15 also thinks so. This particular asshole so happens to be named Dave. It’s as if the universe knew he’d be a total douchebag when he grew up, so it gifted him the universal douche name ‘Dave’. You mumble all of this under your breath as he slyly shuffles his desk closer to hers and takes her unoccupied left hand in his.

What a prick.

You make sure to get as many crumpled pieces of paper in the hood of his Fencing team jacket before class is over.

Your name is Karkat Vantas and you sure have an interesting brand of justice.

Some days you pretend you can escape Dave and his trademarked Strider Charm™. You also like to pretend that his older brother didn’t actually trademark that phrase every time one of them uses it. But pretending these things gets you nowhere because lo and behold your father drives you to work with him again, preventing you from  calling in sick. Or injured. Or dead. There are a lot of things you’d rather be doing instead of sitting in the same room as Terezi’s boyfriend while waiting for an assignment.

One corner of his damned mouth turns up in response to something. That something probably being a joke or picture someone is Dave’s meat-headed group of jocks pinned up on the internet just for Dave’s viewing pleasure on his brand new iPhone. You know it’s a new iPhone because not even ten minutes ago, Captain Strider stuck his head in and gave it to ‘lil man’.

You roll your eyes just as your father reenters the room. He catches you and you apologize for appearing to not be on your toes for a job such as that of a police station worker.

“Son, I have a very urgent paper that must be delivered to the S. R. C., that is, if you are not busy, or if you would rather do it than Mr. Stride-” You grab the manila folder from his hands and leave him bewildered as you walk out without waiting for him to finish. 

The elevator ride to the Superhuman Reserve Corps office is long, and you just happen to notice that the folder you’re holding  _doesn’t_  say ‘Top Secret’ on it… and there’s no tamper-proof seal… and maybe it wouldn’t hurt if you just opened it and read the first page. You orient the page to face you and open the yellow folder. First, there’s a glossy photograph of an Indian girl with long braids and an eyebrow piercing. She’s flipping off the camera and holding her pink-rimmed glasses with one hand.  A large red trident slices across the front of her t-shirt; her symbol known to everyone. This is unmistakably Meenah Peixes, or better known to the citizens of Alternia as  **Her Imperious Condescension.**

Meenah is badass. She leads the main wrong-doing ring in the city. You’ve nabbed more than a few of her cronies in your time. She’s quick-witted, and infatuated with all that glitters. She’s a robber, not a killer. She has people to do that for her. 

And you’re fucking terrified of her.

You dread the day you’ll run into her. Or, more importantly, her trident. 

You snap the folder shut as the elevator bell rings. 

The Superhuman Reserve Corps is usually top-secret, hushity hush kind of stuff.You’re not supposed to know half the stuff you do know about. To your knowledge, it’s a registry. It’s not too uncommon for people to be born with… a power. Some people choose to use their power to help others, to do good, to stop those who do just the opposite, like Meenah. Sadly, heroes like them are few and far between. The government (although in reality it usually falls to the local police to handle this) rounds up these heroes, and signs them up for the Reserve Corps. In exchange for being called upon whenever the city needs them, the heroes get all sorts of benefits. However, the first part is the kicker. Or so you’ve heard.

The door is ajar and you knock once before entering.

It’s dimly lit, and you know why. Sollux is there. Sollux is- er, was- a friend of yours. It’s been a while since you saw him last. His hair has grown down past his eyes, making him look too much like his older brother. You know it doesn’t matter anyways; Sollux is blind. You’ve known him since you were children, but your friendship has dwindled since the revelation of his powers.

As kids, the two of you thought it was cool, like Darth Vader from Star Wars; the way he could pick things up with his mind and control things like computers telepathically was amazing. You would use it to bring you snacks from the kitchen, even when his mom put them on top of the fridge and out of your usual reach. You would drop water balloons on your neighbor’s dog until you got caught one time. He would cheat at video games with his powers so you made him play on expert mode even though he still would win. You were inseparable until his damned powers got in the way. Soon he couldn’t hang out with you because of “reasons”. Those reasons turned out to be because he was saving old ladies from being hit by cars, or tripping robbers as they take off with stolen goods, or picking up a child’s toy when they dropped it down the slide, or something. The police caught on, and re-branded him as the ‘ _Ψionic_ ’. He wears a weird yellow and black suit now with that Greek letter on it. He’s at the station almost as often as you are, but you hardly ever cross paths. 

Sollux Captor is your reminder that you never, ever, want to be caught.

He sits beside a girl. You’ve only met her once, maybe twice, but you’re familiar with her as well. She’s the Maid. You aren’t familiar enough, however, to know her abilities, or even her real name. She looks up as you enter. Dark circles pool under her eyes; her cloud of ruddy brown hair falls limp against her porcelain face.  If it weren’t for the haggard look about her, you muse, she might actually be very pretty.

But those are thoughts for another time. 

She touches his arm and whispers quietly into his ear. He doesn’t raise his head, but acknowledges you all the same.

“What are you doing here, Vantas?” The words struggle to fall past his clunky teeth, but the sting is still there. You hold the folder out at him. When he doesn’t take it, you mumble out an ‘oh, right’ and slide it across the table towards him. 

“This file was sent from authority far higher than you, Sollux.” You try to match the malice in his voice but your voice cracks and you end up looking stupid. Even though it’s been just over a year since he joined up with the uniforms, a little over a year of not speaking to each other, Sollux was your best bro. You just can’t bring yourself to hate him even just a little bit.

Well, maybe you do hate him. But only because ‘Hey man, you wanna hang out?’ has turned to ‘Sorry Karkat, maybe later.’

He laughs. “I’m not really sure if that’s possible, right A.A.?” He beams at her for a second. She takes his hand and wavers somewhere between a polite smile and a motherly sigh.

“Be nice, Sollux, he’s just doing his duty.” She releases him and unfolds the top edge of the folder. “Her Imperious Condescension,” she breathes, “a completed file.” You rock back on your heels, feeling if not a little pride in bringing them this information. Sollux looks up from the table and stammers.

“W-wait really? We’ve been waiting a fucking eon for that!” He snatches it from her and stares blankly at it for a moment, two moments, three. You lick your lips and are about to say something when the Maid quietly breaks the silence.

“Twelve pages… Real name, Meenah Peixes. Wanted for twenty-five counts of armed theft and robbery…” You edge out the room as she reads the file to him.

You can’t remember if you’ve ever felt so much pity for a person in your life.

You close the door and turn around, only to be flattened back against it by a tall man in a dark blue suit. He trips against the opposite wall and mutters to himself. He stands up straight and dusts off his jacket. He looks maybe two years older than yourself, and extremely uncomfortable in his suit. Maybe you’ve seen him around before…

“I am so terribly sorry for the rush, sir, but there has been a call.” You open your mouth to tell him that no you don’t fuckin’ work in this department and he needs to get his act together but he grabs your wrist. “They have called a meeting and all in the SRC must appear in the boardroom immediately. Ah, fiddlesticks, I scratched them again.” He pauses to remove his glasses from his face and takes your arm again. He’s strong and drags you down the hallway. 

You’re shoved to the back of the crowded room. You almost have to sit to have any room at all to stand. You look over the edge of the large desk and can barely make out the form of a woman in a pantsuit sitting on the edge of it. You recall her name, LaLonde, as you father has had her over for dinner once or twice. 

“Would it be cliche of me to say: I bet you are all wondering why I’ve gathered you all here today.” She laughs at her own joke. “In anyone’s case, security measures aside, this is an emergency meeting of the Superhuman Reserve Corps Staff. I call this meeting open for the transaction of business. Lieutenant Egbert, please read the file for case number twelve dash one fifty.” A cop next to her mutters ‘oh right!’ and fishes the folder from the pile of papers on the desk. 

He clears his throat and licks his teeth. “Case number twelve one fifty, Subjects: Latula and Mituna Captor. Status: In progress.”

Wait you recognize those names. They’re two of the most notorious evil-doers in town. They work directly under Her Imperious Condescension, and they aren’t afraid to kill. You hold a childish dream of catching these goons and turning them in. But the fear of Her fork keeps you back. You swallow thickly and tune back into the conversation.

“Units dispatched: The Rogue and Empress. Location: Falls and 31st Street.” You swiftly calculate that that’s almost twenty minutes away on foot. Damn. There’s no way you could get there before those low-profile people the cops sent. You grit your teeth as Egbert rambles on.

The late bell rings to your first hour class. You swear colourfully and bang your head on the door. Your physics teacher thinks he’s funny by locking the door just as passing period comes to an end, turning tardies into abscenses. You hear the class laughing at you on the other end, and the muffled voice of the teacher saying “Try again tomorrow, Vantas.”  You slide down the door and stuff your head between your knees. Maybe if you listen for the notes through the door you won’t fail Monday’s final.

“Don’t worry, I’m late too.” You don’t have to look up to know who it is. Her red Converse shoes, and the white furry paws of her guide dog give it away. How long has Terezi been standing there?

“Aren’t the teachers supposed to let you in anyways?” 

“I’m late,” she insisted. She props one arm on the other’s fist and rest her cheek on its hand, playing with one side of her scrappy red hair.  ”Scoot over.” She pulls up on her dog’s lead and he barks at you. She slips down the door  beside you. You’re both quiet, listening to your teacher drone on about atomic structure or something. You kind of stopped paying attention the second her voice wrapped around your heart and refused to let go. 

“You even listening, Vantas?” You scramble to find some words to say that make you sound at least sort of impressive but she already used all of the good ones. 

“Uh, yeah, I was, uh,  _Pyrope_.” 

“C’mon you know my name is Terezi.”

“That doesn’t mean I have to call you that.”

“Yes it does.”

“No it doesn’t!”

“Yes it does!”

“No it doe- Hey!” The door opens up behind you and you fall on your back. You open your eyes to be face to face with the physics teacher.

“I won’t count the two of you tardy if you just  _shut up_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> coverart by peregr1ne


	3. 3

“Why can’t Dave do it?”

“You are getting paid more, Karkat. It is only fair for your coworkers if you pull your full weight.”

That’s how you ended up with your ear pressed against the door at the latest Superhuman Reserve Corps meeting. Well, maybe it’s not exactly the whole story, and that’s certainly not exactly the reason you are eavesdropping, but in either case, thank heavens that that LaLonde woman talks loudly. 

“English!” She snaps. “It’s been a long unproductive day. I pray you have something at least worthwhile to share with this department?”

“Uh, well, Jesus, uh,” an uncollected voice mutters from the corner that you were listening to. “Actually yes. It’s a report I wrote up on Pyrope’s movements.”

“Latula? But we’ve already got traces on her and M-“ 

“Miss LaLonde, By which I mean Terezi.” Wait, huh? You flatten the side of your head against the polished wood and try to listen. You can’t possibly have heard them say Terezi’s name. “It comes to me from a good source that we have reliable trackers secured. Pending reports.” Wait. Wait wait wait wait wait wait. No no no no no no no.  Terezi? Your Terezi? No! You step away from the door and turn tail back down the hallway to the paperboy office. 

“Jeez Vantas, seen a ghost? Lemme guess, this time she granted you the secrets of an ancient village and then took your voice to use for her own selfish reasons, namely to score the heart of this class-A hunk of prime young blood here.” Strider points to his crotch exaggeratedly with both hands in case I missed his joke. You sneer at him and grant him only two sarcastic ‘ha’s. You didn’t need to put up with his shit right now. You don’t know how you couldn’t have made the connection. It seemed as though you had just thought ‘Pyrope’ to be one of those names, like Nitram  -god there were a lot of Nitrams in your school-, that everyone seemed to be named. You hadn’t put the two and two together to think that maybe, maybe she actually was related to the notorious Latula Pyrope. 

Latula Pyrope is one of Alternia City’s biggest baddies. She’s certainly no Her Imperious Condescension, but she definitely works underneath the gilt baddie. The only thing that sets Latula apart from others in the town is simple: the fame. Any chance she gets, she goes for the press. She lets word get out, calls people to watch her work. Her and Mituna are a team, and she drags him down with her. You already knew who Mituna was; he was Sollux’s brother. You say was, because the teenage you used to prank and get teased by, the boy with the wild hair and a foul mouth, is not the same one that stands behind Latula. She’s pretty, a redhead like Terezi, and always wearing sleek new-aged clothes. She can fly, kind of like some of the people in the SRC, on her white skateboard. She’s a hacker too. Well, at least Mituna is. He can lay his hands on the front of a jewelry store door and suddenly the locks disengage and the security cameras are turned off and you can walk right in. Latula’s power is more about the head, the mind. She can hack your brain and leave you wanting more. Her effect is like a drug. You wouldn’t have even known that if it wasn’t for their big infiltration of the police offices last year that left your father babbling her name and drawing that symbol that she wears on notepads and napkins for months. Maybe that’s why he’s been so distant lately. Months of retraining therapy can do that to people.

It’s a few days before you’re able to get a solid enough lead to go after some other baddie. This one was quick, and a little hard to catch. She had that weird nimble flexibility, like cats do, and her eyes glowed in the dark. She stood with her back to a window and her face towards a four-story drop. You did too, although you lacked metal claws, coordination, or any real source of magical aid. 

This was fucking terrifying. 

You judged that she didn’t know if she could survive the free-fall. She wore a purple mask upon her eyes and hissed if you tried to get close to her. Damn ‘cat burglars’ giving people these ideas.

“Step aside, Knight, let a real hero do her job!” You turn your head. The window you were standing in front of was open, and Redglare was lounging in the sill.  

You never really got a chance to look at her, seeing as you usually have the chance to flee before she can catch you too. Right now you don’t really have a choice.

 She looks… normal. A teal hooded jacket covers her head and a bright red blindfold covers her eyes.  

You have to turn away now because suddenly you’re thrown off balance. The thief you were facing waves at you and free-falls four stories. Your stomach flips and you grapple for purchase on the flat brick sides. Arms wrap around your midsection and tug you back into the room. You’re thrown onto a rug and you push yourself up and catch your breath. 

Redglare’s crouched in the window sill again, facing you. You stammer out a thank you and-

“Karkat?”  _Wait, shit_ , you think. You’re not exactly in disguise but _how did she.._?

She yelps and falls from your view like villain moments ago and down to the street below.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> coverart by bettycrockercorp

**Author's Note:**

> cover art by kill3rturtle!


End file.
